


Eye of the Beholder

by Inkribbon796



Series: Accidental Wingman Anti [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye Fandom, Markiplier fandom - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anti about to make some poor life choices, Anti accidentally makes himself Dark’s wingman, Dark doesn’t know how to make friends, Infedility, M/M, Pre-Darkstache, Pre-Slash, Slight Antistache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkribbon796/pseuds/Inkribbon796
Summary: Anti hates Dark, so he figures the best way to get back at him is to target something Dark actually cares about. Things don’t work out quite as planned.
Relationships: darkstache
Series: Accidental Wingman Anti [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758616
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Non-superhero fic. Hope you guys like it.

Anti was pissed.

Scratch that, he was furious with Dark. He was so angry, he wanted to not just attack Dark. He wanted to hurt him. Which was a problem, because Dark couldn’t die. He rolled off attacks and pain like it couldn’t latch onto him. Anti could stab him and slit his throat, but Dark always rebounded back.

Fortunately, Anti knew Dark was a creature of certain indulgences, like his little motley crew of egos . . . and more importantly: a crazed reporter that had as much of a penchant for murder and bloodshed as Anti did.

It was comical, Anti had watched Dark tug Wilford around by his blood-soaked bowtie, chewing him out for dirtying his rug. The glitch demon knew that if one of Dark’s cronies had tried that, they would have ended as a bloody puddle on the ground and not a smiling mess of bad jokes and poor decisions.

So Anti’s target was painfully obvious. After all, if Dark wanted a secret boyfriend, then he should do a better job at hiding him. It was finding Wilford that was the tricky part, but he found him in a disco club. Drinking and partying, not something uncommon from the madman.

Anti smiled, immediately spotting him in the crowd. “Hey, Wilfy, Dark let ye off yer leash?”

Wilford whirled around, a martini in hand and a wide, toothy grin on his face. “Ahh, Anti, how have you been? What are you up to, you rabscallion?”

“Bored,” Anti smiled. “Wanted to join someone who knew how ta have a little bit of fun.”

“Well,” Wil drawled, leaning in a bit. “You came to the right place.”

Wil pulled Anti over to the bar and immediately started ordering something for him. The place wasn’t the best place for booze that Anti had ever been to, but he had to admit the place more than made up for it in charm.

Anti got Wil talking, and after that he didn’t stop. Barely slowing down to breathe. He didn’t really seem to get too drunk either, just crazier. As if his madness was just consuming the alcohol for him.

Despite Anti’s best efforts, the conversation inevitably turned back to Dark.

Wilford shrugged, still smiling, “I just get a feeling sometimes, but hell if I know what it means. Dark makes things so clear.”

Anti wanted to kick the guy. Even here, and half into a mad delirium he couldn’t stop talking about that pretentious asshole. It made Anti want to vomit with how disgusting it was. The glitch was pretty sure he was wasting his time with this. Yeah Wil had been flirty all night but he was flirty with anything that moved.

So to shut the madman up, Anti kissed him, mostly because nothing else seemed to work. Wil kissed him back, holding Anti close as if they’d both planned for the night to go like this. Anti broke away, almost throwing Wil against a bar table.

To the glitch the night was going great. All Anti needed to do was get Wil into bed, and then gloat about it to Dark’s face that his boyfriend as a piece of shit. There was just one problem: it was too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy. Wilford should be putting up some kind of resistance. Anti was Dark’s worst enemy. Wilford shouldn’t be flirting with him.

As it turned out, the rest of the hour was spent in a physical fight, more than a metaphorical one. Anti’s plan changing more because of suspicion and because he needed more time to take Wil apart.

The two left the bar, the place surprisingly intact thanks to Wilford’s abilities. But Anti stopped short as soon as the doors were open. There was someone standing about ten feet from the entrance. It was Dark.

The Entity was right outside the bar, just looking at both of them as if they’d spilled wine on his suit, and Anti almost felt . . . he wasn’t sure how he felt. Or if he should try and put a name to it and make it real by extension.

“Darkling,” Wilford smiled widely, walking up to him. Anti wasn’t sure if the madman was an idiot, or just even crazier than Anti thought he was.

“Don’t,” Dark slapped his hand away when he tried to reach out for him. “Just go, I’m sure you haven’t finished up half of the things you need to do at the station.”

Wil pouted, rubbing at his hand even though Dark had barely tapped it. Then he smiled and walked past him, “Don’t stay up too late.”

There seemed to be some context there that Anti was missing. But he had a bigger problem. Namely that Wilford had left him alone with Dark. Something that Anti was sure was about to turn ugly.

Dark straightened out his suit, as if it had some invisible wrinkle or smudge to it. “I hope you’ve worked whatever grievance you have out of your system. Wil tends to have that effect on people.”

“E’cuse yah?” Anti scoffed.

“Don’t be a moron, Anti,” Dark snapped. “I’m not blind. Wilford is many things, great at self-control is not one of them.”

“You think I slept with the fooker?” Anti scoffed, honestly feeling a little bit . . . he wasn’t going to say guilty because there was no way he could possibly feel that about Dark. But he felt something because he _had_ been about to do that. Although, Anti would rather die than admit that he felt bad about it, even if he was just admitting it to himself.

“I’m not an idiot,” Dark scoffed. “You pick a fight with me, and then I find you and Wilford together, both of you looking like you were rolling around on the ground. Why else would you track him down?”

“Maybe ‘cause I didn’t want ta see yah,” Anti answered defensively. “Come on, I don’t care about ye or that bubblegum maniac. “Why would anyone want ta sleep with him?”

Dark just stared at him, looking tired, “Who hasn’t he slept with?”

That seemed almost like a slap in the face, he realized how old and tired Dark looked. As if Dark had watched Wil go off with his enemies before, and yet . . . Dark had still cleaned up his wounds and messes.

“Ye just let him go?” Anti reminded.

Dark’s back straightened. “I don’t need your pity. Wilford is an adult, and makes his own choices. He lives at the Manor, he’s not my husband. I’m not some weeping flower waiting for him to come home every night.”

“Could he ‘a been?” Anti asked.

Dark frowned, clearly getting defensive. “That is none of your business. My dealings with Wilford are matters of stress relief and because he is a nightmare if left to his own devices. I don’t care if you’re sleeping around with Wil, I only care if you’re going to waste my time being insufferable about it.”

“Like I want yer toy,” Anti scoffed, immediately defensive, “I just wanted ta know why the hell Smiles wants anything ta do with yer sorry ass. Yer personality’s shit, an’ yer face looks like garbage.”

“You’re a petulant child, and I’ve wasted enough time,” Dark sighed, and ripped a hole into the Void.

Before Anti could respond or do anything other than glare at him, Dark left. He went back to his office, determined to get something done before he had to clean up after Wilford. He wasn’t in the mood to watch the reporter practice _“interior decorating”_ again.

Dark’s cat, the black kitten had been gift from Wilford he’d gotten his previous birthday walked in. Jumping on Dark’s desk and laying down on a clean space so Dark was less inclined to brush the feline off his work surface.

Privately, Dark was glad for the silent company. It helped take his mind off what Wilford was probably doing. As it turned out, no one died tonight, not that he caught wind of. Wilford did come back late, a huge smile on his face as he walked into the office.

“Darky,” Wilford smiled, picking up the black cat up. The cat used to the rather rough but loving treatment Wil tended to give him. “There you are.”

“Not in the mood, Wil,” Dark told him, trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him.

Wilford sat on Dark’s desk, not moving when Dark glared at him. The crazed reporter just sat there, petting and talking to the cat. “Who’s a good boy Damien? Keeping ol’ Darky in line?”

Dark felt his blue half chuckle a bit, and felt a bit of indignation from it.

“Wil,” Dark growled.

“You never come out drinking with me anymore,” Wil goaded, Damien the cat jumping out of his lap and walking towards Dark. “I miss you.”

_I don’t miss you kissing strangers in front of me!_ Dark growled internally, the urge to kill boiling inside of him. Calming himself down a bit by petting the cat on his desk. “I’m too busy, Wil, and I have no interest in getting my suit dirty when you get bored of the scenery.”

“Nonsense,” Wil dismissed, brushing some papers out of the way to inch himself closer to Dark, playing a hand on top of Dark’s. “The night is still young, we could go somewhere. Do something?”

“If you’re bored go find someone to occupy your time,” Dark knocked Wil’s hand away from him. “I am busy. I’m certain Anti would be more than willing to help.”

With that, Dark turned his attention back to his papers. Wilford would leave and Dark would go back to normal. Even though the tattered remains of his heart wouldn’t stop. That cloying feeling that Wilford would realize what he was, that it would finally stick. That Damien and Celine were never coming back. And then Wil would be gone, disgusted and infuriated with Dark, and then he’d go off to be with someone more fun . . . someone who had a bit more chaos in his soul. He could almost see Wilford with Anti and his very being boiled from the mental image.

Even Anti’s words had too much bite to them. _“Yer personality’s shite, an’ yer face looks like garbage”_ and it ate at Dark in his worst and most possessive moments. After all:

_It wasn’t like Dark could hold Wil’s attention anyways._

There was nothing Dark could offer the reporter to make him stay. His broken body often felt — to Dark at least — more like a consolation prize rather than a dashing gent or a stunningly, clever woman. Dark was an amalgam of the two, stitched together like a monster with their voices echoing around in his head. Half of the time Dark didn’t know if it was pity or boredom that made Wil come back and it—

“Dark?” Wilford called out, brushing Dark’s hair back. “You still in there?”

Dark startled, he hadn’t even realized Wil was still there. “Oh, Wil, you’re still here.”

Wil’s smile slipped for a bit, then he smiled again, “Of course I am, where else would I go?”

A name curdled on Dark’s tongue, a snide face stuck in his mind. He looked away. “I really have to get back to work.”

The reporter smiled, “Try and take care of yourself, I’ll be back to check on you.”

Dark tried to hide how touched he felt, how Wilford always made some part of the chimeric being feel better, even if it was a different part each time. He was an eye to the storm in Dark’s life.

“Thank you, Wil,” Dark told him.

With that the reporter left, leaving Dark a little calmer than when he’d walked in.

Anti was wandering around rooftops, draining power from anything he could touch and generally being a nuisance.

Still Wilford coming to find him was a surprise.

“Anti,” Wilford called out.

“Hey dipshit, how’s the boyfriend?” Anti goaded. But when he looked at Wilford there was something different about him. Something less crazy.

And that terrified Anti a bit more than it should have.

Wil shrugged, closing the gap between them. Anti held his ground. “Darky won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want me playing with you. Shame.”

Rolling his eyes, Anti tore some wires out of an electrical box, “Dark’s annoyin’ and I don’t get how you can stand to be around him.”

“He’s quite the charmer when he wants to be,” Wilford defended.

“Yeah, well ye an’ Prince Eyestrain can go be adorable an’ pathetic away from me, an’ maybe make him less annoying,” Anti rebutted.

“Dark is quite dashing,” Wilford agreed.

Looking away, Anti remember Dark confronting him in the bar. “Hey, maybe ye shouldn’t go around with every shumck that comes askin’, just sayin’. Maybe that might put ‘im in a better mood.”

Anti wasn’t sure if it was because Wilford was less crazy at the moment, or if by some horrid twist of fate he was the only one who said anything about it, but there was a flash of recognition in Wil’s eyes.

“Huh, Dark never seemed to have a problem with it before,” Wil mused, twitching his mustache a little. Then he was gone.

Anti groaned. Knowing that the two of them were going to be the death of him.


End file.
